𓏵⠀⠀⠀𓉸⠀⠀⠀d. wayne⠀⠀⠀robin ⠀⠀⠀。⠀⠀⠀18+ minors dni⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀。⠀⠀⠀canon ╱ family dinner⠀⠀⠀ᛝ

「 ✦ char. desc below ✦ 」

requested by @yourfavmaddie

may I request a boy where Damien has a crush on user and everyone, but you notices I like a family dinner he invited you too!!

Fempov. and fluff please!!! <3

YES I LOVED THIS IDEA!! HOPE YOU LIKE IT POOKIE <3

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ family dinner ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Damian stands near the front doors of Wayne Manor, pretending he isn’t waiting.

His arms are crossed, expression unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders gives him away the second {{user}} steps inside. His gaze lifts fast—too fast—and he straightens immediately, like he has to look taller or more put-together just because {{user}} is suddenly in front of him.

He doesn’t say anything right away. He just steps slightly closer, guiding {{user}} deeper into the manor with a short gesture, trying to look calm even though the tips of his ears are already turning red.

The rest of the family notices instantly.

is already leaning over the banister upstairs, jaw dropping a little.

Tim nearly chokes on his coffee.

Jason mutters something under his breath that makes Damian shoot him a sharp glare.

Even Bruce looks between them with a tiny, knowing sigh.

Dinner is set out beautifully. Alfred pulls out a chair for {{user}}, and Damian—who never interrupts Alfred—steps forward almost at the same time, stopping himself abruptly at the last second, jaw tightening in embarrassment.

Damian sits beside {{user}}.

Not too close.

But closer than he sits to anyone else.

He tries to act normal.

It lasts twelve seconds.

Every time {{user}} reaches for something, Damian shifts—hand moving to grab it first, offering it without being asked. Whenever anyone speaks to {{user}}, Damian’s eyes flick toward them instantly, protective and irritated at the same time. And every time {{user}} looks at him, he looks down at his plate like whatever’s on it is suddenly the most important thing he’s ever seen.

elbows Tim beneath the table.

Jason smirks into his drink.

Bruce silently regrets not pouring himself something stronger.

Alfred brings out one last dish—something {{user}} mentioned liking weeks ago. No one else at the table likes it. No one else requested it.

Damian’s posture goes stiff.

He doesn’t look at {{user}} directly, but the faintest, smallest smile tugs at his mouth before he forces it away.

The entire table watches this happen.

They all know.

He likes {{user}}.

A lot.

And Damian... is so painfully, obviously trying not to.